Memories and Love
by Risknight
Summary: The ornaments for the tree may not be conventional, but they hold a lot of wonderful memories for her. Memories of friends long gone. Memories of happy days long past. Memories of the greatest gift she was ever given. The trust and love of her very best friend.


"Granny? Why do you have such weird ornaments?"

"Some of those ornaments hold very special memories for me."

"But they don't got nuthin' to do with Christmas."

"Oh, but they do, honey. They have a great deal to do with Christmas."

"But they ain't Santas or snowmen or baby Jesuses."

"Christmas is more than Santa or snow or Jesus. Christmas is about love and family and joy."

"This one's a monkey in a space suit."

Granny laughed with a great deal of humor. "That one was from Howard Wolowitz. He was an engineer and an astronaut. The first Christmas after his trip to the space station, he bought me this. He gave everyone a space theme ornament. Your grandfather's is the Enterprise ship."

"What about this one?"

Granny took the test tube in her hand and shook it. Glitter and snow swirled around inside. "Bernadette. She was Howard's wife. She was quarantined one Christmas. Howard had us make these for the little plastic tree he got her. I made this one with little pieces of glitter shaped like strawberries. It was the scent of her hair."

Granny picked up a large round ball. A small Yorkie was painted on the side. "Raj gave us all one of these when his dog had puppies. Her name was Cinnamon. Your pup, Pooh Bear, is her great, great grand puppy."

She picked up a small little tea cup ornament next. "Your uncle Leonard gave us this one. Your grandfather always made a hot beverage for anyone who was upset. A non-optional social obligation, he used to say."

"I know this one. Gran'pa said it was a princess. Just like you, Granny."

She reached out to run the tip of her finger over the glittery tiara on the princess ornament's head. "Yes. He once gave me a real tiara. Your mom has it put away for when you get a little better."

"This one looks like an old nail polish bottle."

She smiled gently as she sat down next to her granddaughter and picked up the small bottle on a ribbon. Holding it in her hand, she could almost see the color that it used to hold.

"The color was Passion Peach. Her name was Penny and she was my best friend. She was my Maid of Honor when I married your grandfather. You would have loved her. In fact, you're a lot like her. She was feisty, and full of life. She wanted to be a actress."

"Like me?"

Amy nodded, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "Just like you."

"Penelope? It's time to wash up for lunch."

Amy looked over at her daughter, Samantha, standing in the doorway. She smiled back at her granddaughter and waved her on. "Go ahead. We'll finish decorating the tree later."

Penelope got up and ran toward the bathroom. Samantha walked over and reached out the pick up the bottle ornament. "I remember Dad telling me the story when I was 15. About how they found out she was pregnant the same time they found out about the cancer. She knew she wasn't going to live long after I was born, so she asked you and Dad for one last favor. She wanted me to have a mom."

Amy stood slowly, her joints not as accommodating as they used to be. "She wanted you so much. When they realized she was running out of time, they came to me. I loved them both so much. Almost as much as they loved each other. How could I say no when she asked me to be a mother to you?"

Samantha walked over and placed the ornament on the tree next to the Tardis she had bought in honor of her Dad after he passed a few years ago. Then she turned back to Amy, the woman who had raised her, loved her, and had always been there for her. "I love you, Mom. So did Dad."

Amy hugged her tight and nodded. "I know he did. I miss him very much. Sheldon and Penny gave me the greatest gift in the world. They gave me their trust, their love and a family. They gave me you."

When they heard Penelope coming back down the hall they separated and moved toward the kitchen. Lunch was growing cold and they still had a tree to finish decorating.

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><p><strong>AN: No, I'm not depressed. No, I'm not suicidal. I am (fairly) confident none of you wonderful Shenny friends are mad enough to hunt me down and kill me. (Except for Darkly Dreaming, maybe.) I was actually watching C.S.I. when I started writing this story. I just suddenly had this image in my head of an elderly Amy going through old ornaments and fondly remembering her friends.**


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